


Even a Saint Would Snap

by Interstellar_Child



Series: Minimegs week 2020 [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interstellar_Child/pseuds/Interstellar_Child
Summary: Sometimes you need to look deep within yourself and tear out the parts you hate.Day 1: hope/Regret
Relationships: Megatron/Minimus Ambus
Series: Minimegs week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874680
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: Minimegs Week 2020





	Even a Saint Would Snap

**Author's Note:**

> :3 please enjoy

Across the table from him, in all its glory, sat the Magnus armor. Its eyes were empty and stared right through Minimus. Hands folded, its face was set in a deep frown. Minimus knows this look- he’s felt his own face contort that way before but seeing it now. It just felt- It felt wrong. Minimus knew he had been intimidating when he gave this look but this went beyond intimidation. Minimus felt his intakes drop as it dawned on him what look this was.

Disappointment.

“Do you remember the oath you took?” Magnus says. His voice has no emotion, it’s more like a droning tone than anything natural, “Or have you forgotten something so grave, Minimus?”

“I remember.” Minimus barely hears himself. It’s as if the place they’re in- a large conference room with a single light shining down on them from the ceiling- muffles his voice. He feels as if the vast void around them is closing in on them. Encircling himself and the armor in this strange confrontation. It’s so cold and yet- Minimus feels his spark spinning so fast he doesn't need to engage his internal heating system. Magnus’ words hit him with such force that he feels the chair he is in be pushed back.

“Do you?” Magnus asks.

“With these words I swear-” A memory of Minimus begins, himself from before. Before he had ever even worn the armor. All those millions of years ago. He has not changed but he looks so different. “I shall do all I can in my power, even in my own death, to uphold these accords. As they are perfect and reflect a mission of justice in order to achieve true peace. And peace achieved in true justice.”

Minimus looks at himself from then- Tyrest’s servants had spent literal days cleaning him and his outer self before he could even look at the Magnus armor. He can see that wax shine on his old self. Despite remembering wanting to have a serious look on his face in the moment, he’s much more expressive than he remembers. Eyes fierce, mouth taught in a grimace, shoulders squared. He was everything Minimus believed Tyrest wanted him to be. And for the first time in millions of years- he remembered that when first put on the armor he hated it.

He hated how it changed him. Not just in how he moved or in how he spoke- but how he saw the world itself. His hud no longer displayed like he was used to. It was bombarded with information on everyone he saw. Rap sheets, threat levels, voting histories, current allegiance, rank and worst of all was a percentage measuring level of guilt. As time went on it rose and rose until he had to disable it as everyone, except those too far gone, had unbelievable levels of guilt.

The worst was whenever he looked upon himself in the mirror. Even after he would take off the armor he could swear that in the corner of his eye he saw it. Immeasurable. Undeniable.

He hated not how he never felt weak in the armor but how he never felt clean. It constantly gave him readings on his cleanliness levels as well as vitals and injury reports. Even within his own thoughts he realized that he was categorizing them not to his usual standards but to fit the armor’s. He sorted actions and inactions into folders filed away in his mind. His soldiers became statistics as the armor sorted them into _Worthy_ and _Unworthy._ Alive, killing, strong; worthy. Dead, sparing, soft; Unworthy.

Over and over in the mirror: Unworthy, Unworthy, _Unworthy._

He scrubbed away at chairs and desks. He wiped and wiped and wiped away at scuff marks. Energon stains that blinded his vision- but never ever touched him. Soon it became the horrors of the outside world and the unworthiness of the thing that wore the armor. It was magnus who got his hands dirty. Magnus who saved others from decepticon attacks. Magnus the upholder of the law. And it was Minimus who disappeared- and the universe didn’t even blink.

And as Minimus turned into someone unwanted, Magnus turned into the legend.

“And yet you’ve broken that oath.” The armor is standing now, pointing an accusatory finger at him. 

“No.” Minimus says this on instinct. Because in the millions of years he had been Magnus, even during his century long hiatus, he had never once broken his oath. Despite Minimus’ own flaws, his actions as Ultra Magnus, once Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accords, were stainless. He had never violated the codes. Even when his subordinates did or when his superiors ordered him too he would find ways to reconcile. He found ways to punish and guide those who broke the accords to never do so. He found ways to complete orders without even bending the accords. Minimus had, for nearly three and a half million years, been nothing but a perfect Ultra Magnus.

“Wrong!” the armor screeches. “Look around you! Look at what you have done! Look at what you have wrought.”

Minimus can feel it- the void latching onto him as the light above them goes out. And in that moment he remembers every failure, every battle lost, every death he witnessed. He remembers all those last words. The cries for help as he could do nothing. He feels the weight of it begin to crush him. Like he was nothing more than aluminum. He can’t move. He feels his own spark strain-

Guilty. Unworthy. Guilty. Unworthy.

“Look at how you have betrayed me.” 

“No.” Minimus’ voice slices through the void. “I have never betrayed you.”

“Yet you love him-” And minimus feels his spark stop. In its stead is a wrath the bubbles up and over until his throat is filled with it. When it spills out, It is Minimus who is standing and pointing. As he lets out the frustration of an eon from the floodgates of repressing himself- it is the armor that hesitates.

“Yes! I love him!” and the armor flinches back. “For an endless war I have had to pick up where you got reckless and died! It was not you who had to carry your bots to safety but me. It was I who led rescue missions, I who spearheaded trials, I who sought justice. And you know what i’ve found? True justice doesn't exist.”

Minimus stops. His fists are balled at his sides now and he’s trembling. How long had he known this? Since the first century as Magnus? Since Tyrest? Since Optimus giving Megatron, _Megatron,_ another chance? They should have executed him then and there- and then executed themselves. But Minimus didn’t want that. Death with death? No. Even that couldn’t bring peace.

They had given the universe it’s sacrifice-

They had won the coin toss, and now were free to explore a entirely new universe. They had become pioneers- venturing out to observe and to learn of a universe that was much more alive than Minimus had ever known. And at the end of their shifts- When Megatron would walk back with him to the observation deck- they were truly free.

“After all this time- after everything I have given up to seek unattainable peace- Can I not hope for more? Am I not allowed to be happy?”

“No-” The armor says “You don't deserve it!” And when it towers over him and the void sinks into Minimus’ plating he finds that it doesn't hurt. The armor had lunged itself at him- But in doing so he sees the cracks in its paint. He smells moulton metal and feels the heat of a smelter. Minimus remembers that only a few days ago he had melted down the armor. Even brainstorm- after stripping it of any useful technology- had melted the Maximus armor. Magnus truly is no more. And Minimus remains.

Minimus vents hard and then he lets it all go.

“ _I should have destroyed you sooner-_ ”

Minimus jolts up from recharge. His spark is pounding in his chassis. It’s dark in their room. And his vents are heaving but he’s alive. He’s focusing on their room. Datapads lined on a shelf. Photopads leaned on the windowsill. Stereo in the table between their chairs. Energon in his systems. He lets out a much smoother vent and he’s alive.

He’s alive and Megatron is turning over in his sleep. 

He mumbles something small. Megatron curls in on Minimus- too deep in recharge to really open his eyes. Yet he’s just close enough to nuzzle his face into Minimus neck cables. Minimus pulls him in close and smiles. And they’re alive.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading
> 
> Again, its minimegs week....
> 
> Maybe this time i will. . . . . . . finish the prompts


End file.
